


easily led

by orphan_account



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Cockblocking, F/F, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-26 05:02:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6225001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leliana and Morrigan just want to get some sleep. A certain pair of Grey Wardens keeps them from it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	easily led

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chaosfay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaosfay/gifts).



> o god, recipient, theres a fic of yours out there with alistair and your amell boning down after the rain. i cant find it now. this is leliana and morrigan after the rain.

"Do you think," Morrigan said, "that they would stop if I blew a hole in their wall? Directly over their heads. I could send spiders. I think that might dampen their ardor for at least five minutes."

Leliana, who had their one pillow over her head, groaned. "I don't think they'd stop, either way," she said, peeking out from beneath it. 

The past two days had been rainy. Their Warden had _insisted_ that the mages in their group had ought to keep the wet off the party; even Wynne, who normally went along with her old student's whims, had been disgruntled, by the end of the first day, and cited her aching bones-- _oh, the cold, the damp, my dear girl, do let us get an inn room, we've robbed three companies of Loghain's soldiers this week, we have more than enough coin_. Morrigan had resorted to blood magic two hours into her turn; it was better than waste their lyrium potions replenishing her own mana for something so frivolous. 

She and Leliana shared a room. Sten and Oghren. Wynne, who was today the wealthy noble, and the rest of them her armed and colorful escort, had chambers, and hot brandy, all to herself. Shale stayed in the rain, somewhere outside the inn. 

Morrigan... did not mind Leliana's presence. She was not so blindly religious as she seemed, and patently lying about parts of her past--life with Flemeth had taught Morrigan to recognize a liar--and her hair reminded Morrigan of something she might have seen through a villager's window and stolen, as a child. And Leliana was certainly a better option than Zevran, if Sten wouldn't accept her advances.

"She's going to die," Leliana said softly, during a lull in the activities next door. "She's going to get herself killed. One of them will." 

They would almost definitely die, but not for the reasons Leliana thought. Dozens of times, she had been tempted to take Alistair and the Warden aside and tell them what fate awaited them, when they met the Archdemon in battle (if they made it that far), but neither of them would be inclined to believe her, so wrapped up were they in their own little world. It was best to let them go on as they had been. They were _happy,_ the fools.

"'Tis likely," Morrigan said, rather than explain this to Leliana. "Does it bother you?" 

"Zevran said something to me once." Leliana sat up, as the pounding of the headboard resumed. Morrigan, having given up on sleep, waved a hand and lit the stubby candles at their bedside. "'In the assassination business'"--Leliana spoke in a parody of Zevran's thick accent--"'you learn, my radiant Leliana, to recognize a hero. And once you learn to recognize them, you learn to run in the opposite direction, as swiftly as possible. I suspect you know this as well as I. These two, these Wardens of ours, they are heroes. Why we both are not running, I do not know, hm?'"

She smiled as she finished speaking. Morrigan was struck by how fox-like that smile was, a glimpse of the woman beneath the cheerful storyteller, the sweet singer. Mercenaries had come into the Wilds, from time to time, seeking their bounties, hard men and women; they had worn such smiles, as Morrigan watched them chase down their prey.

"But you--you, Morrigan, are not like Zevran and I," Leliana said. "You owe them no debt, like Sten and Wynne. You must have your own reasons for following them. Am I correct?"

It was too close to the truth. "I wanted to leave the Wilds," Morrigan replied, "Can you imagine what it's like, to have an immortal legend--or a woman who claims to be one--as a mother? The Warden was my chance to escape her, and she was glad to see me go." 

Leliana put an arm around her shoulders right away. A strong arm, her bow arm. Morrigan's face went into the crook of her neck, under her chin, The moment was somewhat ruined by a lengthy groan on the opposite side of the wall, but no one had ever attempted to comfort her so. Leliana managed to smell beautiful, even under the leather-and-sweat stink of travel. Wynne, citing her poor, poor old bones once again, had demanded real baths for all of them in the morning. "Stop that," Morrigan said, half-heartedly. "You're being ridiculous." 

"I know what it is to--"

" _Ridiculous_ ," Morrigan said, once more. But she did not try to move away. In truth, they both smelled, but that was less important than the warm blankets, Leliana's strong grip, the way she took them both down to the single pillow. Morrigan relaxed into her, and sighed, at the hand between her shoulderblades, rubbing gently, coming up to the back of her neck. Morrigan shivered at the feel of it. For all her talk, she had never seduced anyone more interesting than a lost soldier, and never been seduced, in the way she read of in Flemeth's books.

She was hungry for -everything. The world was brighter, outside the Wilds. She had not known such reds as Leliana's hair, or Orzammar's fires, even existed. She had not known a simple kiss to the forehead could be heavy with such promise.

And then Alistair and Amell started again, with renewed vigor.

"Maker's breath," Leliana said, and released Morrigan. "Do they do nothing else? When do they sleep? You would think they'd take up a hobby, like chess. Or speaking to one another? Blessed Andraste preserve us."

"Chess," Morrigan said, abruptly putting out the candles, so that Leliana would not see her flaming face. "What is 'chess'?"

There. This would get an enormous story out of Leliana, and distract them both from what had nearly happened. She would run down the origins and history of the game, and sing a song about it, which would destroy Morrigan's interest in her for the next ten hours, at least. 

"Sleep," Leliana said, instead. She turned away from Morrigan, and gave her the pillow, but kept most of the blanket. "We've a long way go in the morning."


End file.
